The Sound of Thunder
by Chinangel
Summary: Ranma and Mousse are sent to Hell. But when they return, they will be very different in body, and nursing dark thoughts. A Ranma and Diablo 2 crossover. Ranma x Mousse Pairing.
1. Chapter 1 To Hell

**The Sound of Thunder**

**a Ranma 1/2 Drama/Adventure/Crossover fic**

**by Dianna "Chinangel" Machen**

**Authors Note:** This idea has been kicking around in my head for about three years now, so needless to say I have a lot of the characters fleshed out in my head. This is going to be a Ranma 1/2 and Diablo II with a bit of Sailor Moon thrown into the mix. Though originally intended as three books, I may only do the first one. I'll decide if I'm going to do the others based on responses

Also, I don't like Akane, but that being said: I am NOT going to demonize her. She is not a monster, a bitch definitelybut she is not a monster. But neither is she an angel. She is a person with severe anger management problems. I am going to try and stay as true to her character as possible.

Please Review as constructivecriticism and comments are always welcomed, but flames will be fought with flames. I'm a nice person, but I don't like to be insulted. Mind your manners, and we will all get along.

This Story takes place after Jusendo but before the Failed Wedding. It also assumes that there was a gap between the time of Jusendo and the Failed Wedding.

**Chapter 1: To Hell...**

_"I've seen Hell. Now I 'aint talkin' about 'had a crappy day' hell, or 'you pissed me off' hell. No I'm talkin' about Hell, y'know the Underworld. The place with all the fire and stuff, that's the place I went ta. I've seen Hell, and it's all the Ol' Ghoul's fault. She better hope that I don't see her when I get back, 'cause I'll prob'ly kill her. Too bad I'm lookin' for her, eh?"_

_-Personal Journal of Ranma  
_

Kuh-Lon considered herself a patient woman. Why not? After all, she had weathered three hundred years of time on the Earth. She had been taught and taught in turn, had defeated a lot of opponents and had been defeated. She had seen innumerable conflicts over that accursed valley of Jusenkyo, had engaged the Musk and Phoenix alike in battle (though she would sooner do battle with the Musk).

Yes, Kuh-Lon was patient, but not foolish. She was clever, and she was old. Too old. Too old for son-in-law and his tiring stubborness. Before Jusendo the wizened Amazon held sincere doubts as to obtaining son-in-law, after Jusendo she knew she would never have him. Now she didn't WANT to have him.

Having a male that could perform such feats was a dangerous thing; it might give the other males strange ideas, such as "equality". No it wouldn't do to have such powerful male in the tribe, but a female... 

She cackled dangerously. Yes this plan had merit, but it needed work. It was a dangerous plan, one that could easily back-fire if her manipulations weren't exact.

Alone in her study, she hopped over to a desk and retrieved an old, worn leather bound tome. The book was one of many similar battered and used tomes, and were quite possibly her most treasured possessions. Not due to their magical properties, for there were none, but rather their strategic value. For within these books, lay three hundred years of schemes, plans and manipulations. They would be her gift to her heir, should one ever arise. If one did not, then she would destroy the tomes before her death, and take her dark secrets with her to oblivion.

She flipped to a blank page, and hastily scribbled down the rough outline of the plan; outlining first her goal, then next to it, a list of all the points when the plan could go awry. Next to each point was a two or three word contingency plan, words such as "Formula 101" or "Obstacle" were ever present throughout the list.

She then dropped her pen and pogoed over to her shelf of magical goodies. It was overflowing with trinkets, potions, artifacts and scrolls.

She ignored most of the magical items and artifacts at first, instead sifting through the ill organized scrolls, looking for one in particular. There were many interesting and unusual scrolls there to be found as well, some were merely martial arts instructions, others were maps and still others were written in arcane letters clouding their usage in mystery.

Cologne's talon-like hands pushed piles and piles of scrolls around, each scroll was tied with a different coloured ribbon, indicating itsusage. Blue for history, red for techniques, green for maps, and black for magic. It was the pile of scrolls bound together with a black ribbonthat she brought with her to the desk and began unwrapping.

She unwrapped each scroll justenough to read the title, before replacing the ribbon and tossing to scroll to the floor. She repeated this process, as she dug her way through the pile of black ribboned scrolls.

Open, read, close, drop. Open, read, close, drop. Open read, close, drop. Open read, close, pause.

She reopened the scroll and reread the title. A grim smile came to her face. She had found the first important piece of the puzzle,and next she would look for the second.

She placed the scroll on her notebook and pogoed back towards her shelf, ignoring the mess of rolled parchmentit would be cleaned up later. She began to carefully scan the artifacts. Most of them were held in labeled boxes, tubes or some other method of confinement, and all were powerful in the right situation. But she was looking for a very old artifact.

Older than the Amazons. Older than the decaying matriarchs and the books of history, and even older than Jusenkyoitself. A small artifact that should never have left the old Amazonian matriarch's storerooms, but her need was great and asthe artifact was a powerful tool. She managed to find what she was looking for: Located at the very back, nestled between an accursed sword and a mystical girdle, was a small ring box.

She carefully extracted the box and moved back towards the desk, cradling the box as if it were as precious as life itself. Or as volatile as a bomb. She had no idea what had possessed her to take the Ring with her, but yet here it was, a powerful little object. Too powerful in fact. There was no trust when it came to the Ring, and still she found herself in the position of allowing it to leave her sight.

Now to find the proper scapegoat. Someone to take the fall and suffer the consequences. Someone like...a malevolent smile formed on her ancient lips and she snatched the scroll with one ancient and withered hand and balanced the box on the tip of her staff, mindful not to touch it, and then pogoed out of the room.

"Mu-Tzu!" she shouted in Mandarin as she left her study, "MU-TZU!"

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Kasumi Tendo smiled serenely as she prepared supper. She checked the oven's temperature, then the stove and found everything to be satisfactory, and their contents were cooking nicely. She closed the oven, and headed towards the cupboards to fetch the bowls and chopsticks.

She reached in and retrieved the proper bowls and chopsticks, then headed to the table to place them down.

Father's bowl was a simple green and went with brown chopsticks. It went at the head of the table. Next came Uncle Saotome's equally plain white bowl and itsblue chopsticks. Next to him, and closest to the kitchen, sat Kasumi. Herbowl was white with blue butterflies, and her chopsticks matched, being as both were the last pieces in Mother's set. Across from her sat Akane; yellow bowl with small pigs, and yellow black and yellow chopsticks. Then next to her sat Ranma.

Just then Ranma's bowl shattered. Kasumi shrieked in surprise and stepped back as pieces of the bowl smashed against the ground.

"Kasumi what's wrong?" Akane demanded as she ran into the room. She found Kasumi on her knees, staring stunned at the remains of Ranma's bowl. It had been red and black, in a yin-yang pattern. A joke from Nabiki. But now, the bowl had been reduced to pieces no larger than the jagged chunk that she held in her hand.

"Oh my God! Kasumi what happened?" Akane asked again as she helped her stunned sister up.

"The bowl...," the middle eldest Tendo girl whispered, "It just...it..." her voice trailed off. Akane had grabbed a broom and was sweeping it away from her sister.

"Are you alright? Did the glass cut you?" Akane asked fearfully and she moved to help her sister. Much to her relief, Kasumi nodded.

"Ah...yes. Yes Akane I am fine." she gazed down at the remnants of the bowl in her hand, "But Ranma's bowl..." Akane rolled her eyes.

"Kasumi you take that crap way to seriously. It's not a bad omen at all, the bowl just broke okay? Let's just give him another one."

Kasumi looked uncertainly at her sister. Kasumi had always believed in omens, especially since the arrival of a pig-tailed girl. Kasumi had long since learned not to discount anything as being impossible, because Ranma had done the impossible many times before.

Hesitantly she nodded.

"Ah...alright little sister." She pocketed the red piece of ceramic, took another bowl (an unadorned blue one), and headed back towards the living room.

Outside the thunder rolled.

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Mousse bounded towards the Tendo dojo, a scroll gripped tightly in his palm and a box tucked into his robes. His mind alive with the words of the ancient matriarch.

"Take this to Ranma," she had ordered holding up the scroll and the box, "Tell him it's a cure. One that will only work in his cursed form."

"What?!" Mousse roared, "You have a cure and you didn't give it to me!?" he lunged forward, only to be met by the business end of her staff, before she caught the box back on the top of her staff.

"It's not a cure you blind idiot!" she snapped.

Mousse stopped, and regarded her carefully.

"Then why give it to Ranma?" he demanded. He couldn't see her smirk, but her voice chilled his heart.

"It's a punishment for making me waste so much time in Japan. He is not suitable to marry Shampoo, but we cannot leave while he is still here." Cologne looked behind her and saw Shampoo's shadow still moving in the kitchen. Still cleaning up from the day.

"Good," she thought, "It wouldn't do to have her hear this plan."

Mousse's heart leapt They were getting rid of Saotome, and going back to China! Oh happiest of days!

"I will do as you ask honored elder!" he crowed and moved towards the box and scroll only to have her raise her hand and stop him.

"Not so fast Mr. Part Timetime. This has to be done right or else the consequences will be disastrous!" this got Mousse's attention. He ignored the insult and listened. Then after confirming the orders, he received the materials and ran as fast as he could towards the Tendo Dojo.

"Tonight Saotome," he thought savagely, "You pay!"

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"Oh my! It seems we have guests." Kasumi said pleasantly, heralding the entrance of Mousse. Ranma groaned and hung his head.

"Mousse, can't it wait 'till after supper. I'm eatin' here." He groaned. Mousse snorted.

"I haven't come to fight Saotome, butto give you," he brought out the ring box, "this!" he finished theatrically. Ranma's eye twitched.

"I'm a guy you moron!" he yelled, "I ain't into guys! Go talk to Kuno!" he snapped. Mousse blinked then scowled.

"No Saotome! This isn't...that! It's a magic ring, for your curse." Genma perked up, and slowed in his stealing of Ranma's food.

"Don't even think about it Pops," Ranma growled at his father.Genma returned a hurt expression.

"Whatever do you mean son? I only have your best interest in mind." Ranma glared at him but turned back to Mousse.

"So how does this thing work?" he asked suspiciously.

"You put the ring on in your cursed form, then take the scroll and read it. Then the magic will cure your curse."

Genma lunged across the table, only to be met half-way by Ranma's spin-kick. The overweightmartial artist flew backwards and crashed into the shogi board, scattering the pieces across the room.

"Ha!" Ranma crowed, "I knew you were gonna do somethin' ya greedy bastard." Genma gave his head a couple of shakes and then shot a death-glare at his son.

"Insolent boy!" he snarled, falling into his old verbal stance. "After all I've done for you! This is how you repay me!?" But Ranma would have nothing of it.

"All you've...don't be so full of yerself! All you've done is made me the world's biggest target! I gotten your butt out of the fire too many times old man." Genma and Ranma shared a withering glare, and Genma rose to meet the challenge.

Mousse for his part, was starting to panic. When Ranma fought, things broke. The Tendos instinctively knew this and had scurried out of the way, though Akane's glare promised pain for the younger Saotome.

He had to put an end to this.

"Th...," he then remembered what Cologne had told him. "The cure only works on the spring of drowned girl!" he yelled.

Genma froze and Ranma smirked at the words.

"That's right," Mousse continued in a more relaxed tone, "It only works on victims of that spring; else I would've used it myself."

The Tendos had returned to the table and Genma had slumped to the floor, a defeated expression on his face.

"Not gonna be a girl no more, not gonna be a girl no more, not gonna be a girl no more!" Ranma repeated as he danced around the room. Mousse suppressed a malicious grin and forced an angry scowl onto his face.

"Do you want the cure or not!?" he growled angrily. Ranma quit dancing and hopped over to the Chinese boy.

"Right, so what do I hafta do?" he asked eagerly.

"First go into your girl form." Ranma grabbed a glass of water and dumped it on his, now her, head.

"Then, put the ring on your right finger." Mousse offered the ring box up. Ranma quickly opened the box and produced the ring.

The ring was absolutely exquisite. A thin silver band covered in strange markings, and topped with a carefully cut yellow gem. The gem seemed to hum with an inner power, and the hairs on the back of Ranma's neck stood on end.

Her danger sense was screaming at her, but she wrote it off as a knee jerk reaction to something magical. Still though, she had learned to trust her instincts, they had saved her butt more times than she cared to count.

"Ummm...yeah." she said as she slipped it on, it fit her finger perfectly. As if it was customized just for her.

"Now what?" she asked, her enthusiasm dulled due to her nervousness. There was something wrong with this situation; she just couldn't put her finger on what!

"Now take the scroll and read it." Mousse offered her the scroll. She stared at it for a moment, a heavy feeling in her stomach. She shook it off and reached for the scroll with her ringed hand.

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Kasumi watched as first Mousse appeared, and she greeted him in her own pleasant fashion. Then a roller coaster of emotions as Mousse produced the ring, Uncle Saotome and Ranma had a brief but heated argument. Finally Mousse's declaration about the ring.

Her hand had unconsciously slipped into her apron pocket and was rolling the red ceramic fragment in her palm as she watched the redhead slip on the ring, then reach for the scroll.

The room was suddenlyfilled with a brilliant red flash and the air was heavy with the horrid smell of fire and ash. Kasumi instinctively turned away, shielding her eyes with her open palm. Her heart broke as she heard Ranma's distinctive voice scream in pain and then...was gone.

Leaving a set of cracked glasses, and a single, black bracer amongst two piles of ash.

In her palm, blood trickled down her fingers from where she had been gripping the ceramic fragment.

**End of Chapter 1**

**A very special thank you to Dumbledork for saving this from being a total disaster!**

**Also thank you to MShrieken and deathgeonous for ensuring my spelling and for allowing me to bounce idea's off of them.**

**Please make sure to thank them in your reviews okay?**


	2. Everything Burns

**The Sound of Thunder  
a Ranma 1/2 Drama/Adventure/Crossover fic  
by Dianna "Chinangel" Machen  
**

**Authors Note:**

If you've played Diablo II, please note that magic is very different than what you remember it. There are no set spells. Magic is limited to the user's imagination and control, so it's quite possible to create a wall of ice or cause fire to erupt from the ground.

Also, ignore what you know about the monsters. I'm going for realism here,  
not awe inspiring power. This means that even the little "Fallen" are dangerous in large groups. If you must draw a comparison, then think of the monsters as being stuck on "Hell" difficulty with max players, okay?

If you haven't played Diablo II however, then just ignore that message and enjoy the story!

Special thank you goes to **Dumbledork MShrieken and deathgeonous** for pre reading this and making sense out of my blind stumbling. Thanks you three, without you, this would not be nearly as good as it could be. Your continued hard work is invaluable to me.

**Suggested listening music**: Everything Burns by Ben Moody featuring Anastacia

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_"That hurt me in ways you won't be able to understand. It was worse than the Nekoken, worse than the Full-Body C-C-Cat Tongue Pressure Point, worse than Akane's cooking! Well...okay so it wasn't worse than THAT. But pretty  
darn close! And I never recovered from it, not totally anyways. Damnit! Now  
I've got two things that scare the Hell outta me."  
_-Journal of Ranma

She didn't know where she was or even what she was doing. All that she knew for certain was that it hurt. It hurt all over. Her nerves felt like they had needles being jammed into them, every inch of her skin like it was slowly being peeled off while ash was being poured on her naked muscles. Both her eyes were full of molten plastic, and her tongue had been injected with acid.

She screamed. She screamed forever as she died over and over again. Her mind begged for release from the agony, but there was none. There was no haven as she fell through the red whirlwind of torture and hatred.

"PLEASE!" she shrieked as her mouth felt black burning oil being poured into it, "I'LL DO ANYTHIN' YOU WANT! PLEASE HELP ME!"

But there was no response behind the pain. No company except her own screams of anguish and the roar in her ears.

She wailed and howled for several lifetimes. Her screams echoing in her ears until a strange, heavenly sensation rushed over her; the merciful splash of water gently falling, washing the molten plastic from her eyes. She greedily  
opened her mouth wide and the water cleansed the acid from her tongue, the oil from her throat, and lovingly caressed her burned body. She lay in the mud, crying and trembling, while the gloriously cool rain was drenching her, and having a hard time getting over the feeling of betrayal.

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The ground was slippery and muddy, partially from the rain, but mostly from the blood. Corpses lay slumped amongst craters and long ugly gashes across the ground. The corpses had once been ugly little beasts called...

"Carvers," a woman hissed painfully, and weakly kicked one of the little critters in the head._  
_

Carvers are small, goblin like creatures with blue skin and small brains. They are also poor tacticians, and the only strategy they use is overwhelming their enemies through sheer numbers. This however works in their favour, as the little bastards are persistent and don't stop attacking until either you or them are dead.

This particular group of Carvers was especially dangerous, as it had a Shaman helping it. The Shaman is a slightly more intelligent Carver that has limited knowledge of magic. Usually they are only able to shoot a fireball or two Especially annoying is that their fire attacks are long range, forcing one to keep an eye out for the occasional magical blast, while dodging the rusted steel weapons that the blue-skinned grunt demons seem to prefer.

If you are unprepared, the Carvers willfully live up to their names, and carve chunks out of you before you can mount a proper defense.

Like what had happened to her.

She mentally cursed herself for allowing the demons to get the drop on her, as Carvers are neither very intelligent, nor very stealthy. But while she was focusing on a nearby red blast of light, the little demons had managed to surround her. She had been forced to abandon any pretense of strategy and start tossing out some of her more powerful spells.

She had always preferred fire as it was an easy element to use, especially if you were angry. The flames seemed to react to her anger, and she had got plenty mad when that first blade had sunk into her hip. And with every successful strike the Carvers managed to land, her flames grew in size and in intensity, as did her temper.

In the end, she had executed an exceptionally powerful spell that had caused nearly the entire battlefield to burst into flames, though at that point she had been close to a magical berserker's rage. But while she had been victorious, the spell had robbed her off what little strength she had left.

The Sorceress groaned as she forced her protesting legs to support her weight, unwilling to serve as a snack for whatever beasties that might have seen her battle, and come to investigate.

She was wearing a moss green tunic that was cut off just beneath her breasts in order to show off her athletic build, a similarly coloured green skirt and dark brown knee-high boots. She was also wearing a pair of bracers, a choker, a tiara, and a golden belt. These accessories had no practical value and were of no use in combat, but she wore them out of sheer vanity, as she wasn't a melee fighter and aesthetic enhancements were thus perfectly acceptable.

She groaned and used her staff as a make-shift crutch as she was heading back towards the spot where the red glow had been emanating from. She felt powerful magic, but she couldn't be certain of its origin. It could have been the result of a spell that had been cast, the presence of a natural magical aura, or something else.

The more rational part of her brain was screaming at her to run away, but she rarely listened to her rational side, opting instead to follow her curiosity.

Though, to be fair, it rarely ever paid off.

A crater was the first thing she discovered. A crater that had wisps of steam rising from it, caused by the falling sheets of rain landing on cooling coals. But within the crater was a real treasure.

A naked, unconscious, petite red-headed girl, with burns on her arms, legs, chest and back. And she was oozing magic. Her body was saturated with untapped mana.

The Sorceress slumped to the ground, dumbfounded, as her mind made the appropriate mental calculations.

Girl + plenty of untapped mana student.

A student...she had her own student.

A slow smile began to cut its way across the Sorceress' face. She quickly stood and hobbled down the crater, but then she paused and frowned. She was too hurt to carry the redhead, but leaving her here was absolutely out of the question. She could get eaten, killed, raped or worse: taken by another Sorceress!

The very thought turned the brunette's stomach, and her face hardened in determination. A quick check of her pouch revealed a clear glass bottle filled with a red liquid. Her face became grim. The liquid was a potion designed to accelerate healing, but there wasn't enough here for the two of them.

Not unless she rationed it.

Her mind set, she popped the stopper off, and drank down about half of the potion, and a burning sensation filled her as the potion went to work. It wouldn't heal her instantly or completely; merely augment her own natural healing. Then she knelt by the redhead.

Her free hand pulled her mouth open and the brunette began to slowly pour the potion into the girl's throat. The potion would help to a degree, but the redhead would need more red potions, bandages and rest if she wanted to make a full recovery.

Still, it was better than nothing.

The sorceress then forced herself to pull the girl up, and she pulled one of the naked redhead's arms across the back of her shoulders. Still supporting herself with her staff, the brunette began to half drag half carry the wounded girl back to town. Well, not really a town, but rather a camp set up by the local female thieves and better known under the name Rogue's Camp.

She was so fixated on getting her little prize to the Rogue's camp that she was unaware of raven, perched upon a nearby rock. It didn't seem to mind the rain as it studied the struggling sorceress with eyes that were just far too intelligent.

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"I know not of my age, for I have none to speak of. I know not of my form, for I have transcended it. I lay between the stars and the spirits, between skies and the waters." The speaker looked down in its formless domain, down at the only one to ever have entered it uninvited.

"Child of man," it rumbled, "burdened with potential. Burdened with...human weakness." If it had features, it would have sneered while its eyes sparkled. But none it had. So, save for the lone human occupant, the inky nothingness remained unmarred.

"You shall be my will, my emissary. Taking the sight of my power across this world, and to the next." nonexistant eyes glinted, and the presence vanished entirely. Dissapointingly however, it did so without any malevolent laughter, it just ceased to exist, and the human slowly began to fall.

Falling through the nothing, passing through the void in which direction is irrevelant, until it was suddenly stopped by something. Something hard, and dry. The shock was so great the human awoke, and peered about with bleary grey eyes.

Then the human cursed in Mandarin.

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The Tendo dojo was in an uproar. Nabiki was calculating the loss of two premier martial artist's, and how it would effect her bottom line and the future budget of the dojo. Akane was on the verbal (and soon to be physical) warpath ranting loudly about "Stupid perverts," and "Typical Anything-Goes crap". Soun was bemoaning the future of the dojo while Genma performed his usual "Foolish weak son" wail. Kasumi...

Kasumi was sitting quietly in her room, having retreated from the Tendo living room. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her legs as she stared at the glasses and bracer. Outside the rain pounded against her window and the thunder danced amongst the clouds. In her pocket, the red ceramic rubbed against her hip.

She would not cry.

Tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes.

Ranma was always so strong.

The tears ran across her cheeks and gathered at the bottom of her chin.

Everyone he was around was always so strong.

The tears tumbled, like the rain against her window, and splashed against her legs.

She would have to be strong for him. For both of them.

Her eyes were reddening as the tears continued unbidden.

Even though she barely knew them, she could have prevented this.

She would be strong. For both of them. For all of them. She would accept nothing less.

She would not cry.

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An ancient head moved as it felt a strange sensation. A familiar sensation. A wonderful sensation. The delectable touch of the fabric of reality being torn apart by crude human magic. The taste of barely tapped magics tantalized him from the other side, taunting him.

Then it was almost entirely gone. Vanishing as reality hastily mended itself. Shoddy work to be certain as it had left a tiny, tiny hole. Far too small for him, but maybe with a little work...

A sadistic grin tore open his face and ancient, unliving eyes sparkled for the first time in a millenia.

This little world would be a nice distraction for him, a sort of "pet project" to help occupy his mind, and maybe he could even use it as a home base. The idea was humerous if nothing else.

Now all Mephistopheles had to do was find the ones who came through that gate.

**End of Chapter 2**

**Authors Rant: **Yes I know it's a little shorter than the last one, and I'm sorry for that. But when a chapter dries up...

Anyhow, I'd like to take this moment to say this: IF YOU DON'T LEAVE YOUR EMAIL, I CAN'T RESPOND!

sob

to Dragonmage: Yikes! You really know your Diablo II stuff! I'd like you to email me so I can talk more with you, but other than that, I think that this chapter answered some, if not all of your questions. Oh and Mousse's section is purposefully vague.


	3. Gathering Storm

**The Sound of Thunder**

**a Ranma 1/2 Drama/Adventure/Crossover fic**

**by Dianna "Chinangel" Machen**

**Authors Rant: **I have to apologize for the time it's taken to get this out: there is a number of reasons for it. Primarily, it's because real life has taken up a lot of my time, but that is not the only reason. I got flamed, and I found out why they are called that: they hurt! It made me pause in my writing for a while: was I really as bad as he said? But eventually I decided that I wasn't and that I wasn't going to let the words of one selfish idiot hurt me.

Also, I am going on my rough approximation of the character's ages. I draw my conclusions based upon their voices, and if you don't agree...tough.

One final, last note. This is the **UNPRE-READ** version of this fic. It will be changed after my pre-readers edit this mess.

So anyhow, here is Part 3!

**Suggested Listening Music:** The Howling by Within Temptation

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_I don't remember a lotta stuff about what happened before I woke up. I only know what Arcanna-sensei told me._

_--Journal of Ranma_

Guard duty, ugh. Painfully boring. Nothing is more numbingly boring than watching miles of plains and rocks while taking the occasional potshot at a zombie foolish enough to get too close. Of course, she didn't dare sleep while on duty because that would result in harsh words from Akara or the Captain. So that meant she had to suffer through each and every mind-numbing second of nothingness.

Even the Dark Huntresses had been quiet as of late. She had seen them peering at her from behind stones, but they had an understanding with her and her bow: They kept their weapons held passively, and she didn't put them down.

She almost wished that they would try and hurl a spear or charge her with an axe. Anything to break the monotony of standing out in the middle of nowhere. One would think that being involved in a war against the Lords of Hell would be more exciting.

A hint of red caught her eye and eyes looked hopefully, red meant either undeads or the little Fallen's. Nasty little demons. Sure enough, one of their bald grotesque faces appeared from behind a rock and it waved a torch in one hand, and a scimitar in the other, all the while calling out the word "Bishibosh" or something similar. She drew back an arrow and carefully aimed at the beast.

"Hold still you ugly..." she breathed out and loosed the arrow, it screamed through the skies and found the demon's right eye. It straightened as the shaft sunk into it's skull and it toppled over, frozen in mid-pose. She smirked and lowered the bow, until another of the little creature's popped up, right next to where the last was.

"Oh a friend." she muttered and drew a bead, this arrow found it's throat and it staggered around clawing at it's windpipe.

And another, this one with an axe, crowing the word "Bishibosh" louder than the other two, and it was flanked by one carrying a knife and another carrying a crude club.

"It's a shooting gallery tonight!" she crowed and let fly two shafts from her horizontally-aimed bow. The broadheads found the chest of Club and Knife, while Axe stared stupidly at it's dead companions and scratched it's head.

"Awww, you lonely?" her bow sang and the arrow went through her rough approximation of were it's heart was. Another one ran around the rock, it's arms waving psychotically until she put it down with a well aimed shot through the mouth. It's friends were pretty upset by this however, and hopped up and down while waving the broken ends of spears at her threateningly. But four well placed arrows silenced them.

"What the Hell is a 'Bishibosh'?" she snapped as she began to back up, frantically picking off the demonlings, with well-aimed volleys, "What the in the Hells!?" she growled. It was looking like another raid. The little red demons were very similar to Carvers in shape and mind, and every once in a while, a group of twenty tried to take the camp. She was able to take out most of them before they even got close, but occassionally she had to retreat back to the safety of the Camp's wooden walls and assist from there.

"Die Goddamnitt!" she screamed she let fly another arrow into one perching atop the rock, chanting that infermal word. Two more toppled just outside of melee range and another before it could finish scrambling up the face of that damn rock they seemed to be so insistant on climbing. Then it grew silent once more, as rain began to pelt down on her from the skies.

"Is...is that it?" she heaved out, and sighed, and grumpily frowned, "I coulda taken more of them." although inwardly she was relieved. She wasn't sure if her pride could stand another bout of taunting after the last time she came charging back to the Camp, her quiver empty as a tomb in Hell and the madly howling creatures on her tail. It wasn't funny at the time, but after they had beaten back the monster's, then they all took turns ridiculing her about not being able to kill a few-

A pain shot through her chest and she gasped then gazed downwards, only to recognized the feather's of one of her own broadhead's blossoming from between her breasts.

She raised her eyes, her face stunned, and stared in shock at the gold-coloured demon and the red one next to. It was the red one who was holding a small, crude bow and grinning at her with yellow teeth.

"Help," she said softly, "We're under attack." and fell to the earth, the last whisps of life fleeing her lungs.

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Something was wrong this morning. Nabiki couldn't put her finger on exactly what though. Even through her half-asleep stupor, her sharp mind was beginning to slowly become aware of an important change. Something that wasn't present this morning, something that should be present.

She gazed around blearily and her eyes eventually fell upon the shogi board. Soun, her Daddy, sat at it, staring mournfully at the pieces. That seemed correct, he always got emotional whenever...whenever ANYTHING happened that directly affected him. The man would cry at a leaf falling in his tea. This sob appeared to because he was losing/lost the match.

She stumbled outside and stared at the dojo. No sound echoed from it though. That was fine, she really didn't expect Akane or Ranma...RANMA! she snapped to full alert and walked back inside.

Genma was grinning smugly at Soun as he easily outmaneuvered the over-emotional man, he didn't seem to be aware that his only child had vanished in a gout of fire and light last night. For some unknown reason, Nabiki felt her skin crawl at that. Everyone expected her not to care, which she really didn't, not much. But for Ranma's own FATHER to be acting so calm, after his ownly child disappeared in a flash of fire and light!?

She shook her head in disgust, well at that explained why Daddy and Uncle Saotome were friends.

She stalked past the two adults (who ignored her) and stormed into the kitchen. A rancid stench assaulted her nostrils making her stomach twist painfully and her eyes tear up to protect themselves from the fumes. Oddly, the kitchen was still fairly clean, save for the work area, but that was to be expected.

"Oh, Hi Nabiki!" Akane called from somewhere in the pale pink haze. Nabiki opened her mouth to answer, and immediately regretted as the clouds from 'breakfast' rushed into her lungs, making her feel like they were on fire. She released a half-strangled cry and half ran, half staggered out and into the living room where she collapsed, coughing wetly.

Nabiki..." she looked up into the eyes of her angelic older sibling.

"Kasumi," she wheezed, "Stop...her..." she then collapsed into a half-concious state. Kasumi's face became worried, and she carefully picked her sister up, and carried her upstairs. She wasn't about to go into the clouds of noxious fumes like poor Nabiki did.

Kasumi placed her unconcious sibling back in her room and stroked her face for a moment.

"Oh Nabiki..." her voice was full of jealousy. Nabiki: unafraid of authority figures. The eldest Tendo sister sighed bitterly and walked to the door, absently noticing how...organized Nabiki's room was. Like everything else in Nabiki's life: everything had it's place and purpose.

_"Will I ever be like you?" _she wondered and closed the door behind her.

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Killing. Mousse was no stranger to it, not by any stretch of the imagination. He knew death quite intimately, and was unnaturally comfortable with it. Due by and large to his home and his position in the tribe.

An inferior male. A DEFECTIVE inferior male.

He was considered expendable cannon fodder in any situation. He was often sent out on suicide missions or pointless endeavors against the Musk or Phoenix people with the hopes that it would be his end. Yet he always came back, forcing a smile while blood dripped down off his body.

What few knew, or were willing to admit, was that it wasn't his own.

Mousse was no stranger to death.

Pygmy's. That's the only way he could describe them. Little, tiny, maliscious, pygmy's. They hopped up and down, screaming out nonsensical words from their tiny voiceboxes, and spitting darts from their blowguns.

"Damn!" he growled and slid past a small volley of the darts and flung several spears from his robes in the general direction of the creatures. The screams told him he had at least hit, if not fatally. He molded his chi into two Chinese broadswords and posed on one leg; one sword held overhead and the other straight in front of him.

The creatures milled about him, before stupidly rushing into arms reach.

Mousse smiled.

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"I do NOT like this, Matriarch!" a strong voice snapped. An elderly woman sighed.

"Kashya, I know what I'm doing. The Sightless Eye see's through the mist of time, and it see's the great future this one is burdened with." in her tent, the elderly Matriarch of the rogues looked towards the figures sleeping quietly in her tent, her face softening. She really couldn't help it: she felt a special kinship towards all of her kind; be they trained in the art of magic or not.

"We barely have enough as it is, Matriarch. We can't support a child for a long period of time! Let alone two!"

"Mind your tone!" reminded the elderly woman. She was dressed in a violet shawl and a long black dress, her eyes sparkling silver, with the internal power of her people, and she turned her weathered features towards Kashya.

Kashya, a young, powerfully built warrior who was every bit the hot-head she seemed. Barely twenty seven, and the woman was already headstrong towards outsiders, and those who harbored them.

The elderly Matriarch was glad that Captain Kashya had been passed over for training in the sisterhood; she was too hot-headed and distrustful. Kashya got edgy when outsiders milled around, and had already had several run-ins with Gheed.

Kashya hated two things more than anything in this life: Outsiders and Men. Gheed was both. Now, granted that the slimy Merchant got under even the old Matriarch's skin, but that did not warrant throwing him out. He was distastfulness was offset by his usefullness: his connections brought in weapons and supplies for her people, though he did charge slightly more than was strictly necessary.

"We will require her in the coming days Captain Kashya."

The Captain looked ready to tear her hair out. She paced back and forth in the tent, glaring at the two sleeping figures: the sorceress and the red-headed stranger, both were heavily bandaged.

"Why?" she hissed. The elderly Matriarch smiled in a knowing way, without knowing very much at all.

"That is for the future to decide, Captain." Captain Kashya turned away, and glared angrily at a group of new recruits that wandered by, giggling like children. She needed the Matriarch to understand that this was no time for hocus pocus and "Unseeing Eye" crap. Although she served the order, Kashya was not a firm believer in it. She trusted only her bow and sword.

"Very well." she growled tightly, "I take my leave of you." then without waiting, she stormed out in the direction of the new recruits, filling her lungs for a new bout of yellling.

"Foolish child..." the old Matriarch smiled fondly at the captain's retreating form, "You will serve our people well."

"Damn..." the Matriarch turned around and knelt by the sorceress' bedside, "OW! That hurts." the young girl pouted.

"Are you alright child?" the Matriarch asked warmly. The sorceress opened her eyes, and focused on the Matriarch.

"Akara?" she inquired sleepily, the Matriarch, nodded, "Yes Arcanna, it is I."

Arcanna, the clumbsy sorceress grinned, "So I made it back!" she crowed and pumped her fist in the air, and immediately regretted it.

"Ow..." she whined as needles of pain made themselves known.

"Stay down, and drink." Akara scolded and fetched a potion. It was violet, and warm to the touch with small bubbles occasionally breaking the surface.

"Ugh...yes Ma'am." she grumbled and took the potion. She popped the lid and inhaled the delicious arouma of grapes, and licked her lips. Akara rolled her eyes slightly as Arcanna displayed a very UNfeminine drinking speed: downing the potion with loud gulps, then proclaiming that she had finished the concoction with a loud belch.

"Whoo! that was good Akara!" she grinned innocently. Akara sighed, ah to be young and carefree.

But, back to business.

"Arcanna, who is this child?" Akara inquired, shifting over to the bedside opposite Arcanna. The sorceress sat up, and began to unravel her bandages.

"Umm...I don't know." she responded chipperly. Akara did a double-take.

"WHAT!?" she snapped, causing the red-head to moan and stir slightly.

"I. Don't. Know." Arcanna explained with a smile all too smug, "I found her lying in a crater, the bottom of it was covered in coals and..." she found her pack, laying at the foot of the bed, and fetched out a deerskin bag, "These." she dumped the contents into the waiting hand of the old woman.

Rubies. Rubies of all sorts of sizes, the largest being the size of her fist. Beautiful, and radiating intense magical heat. The largest was flawless, while the rest of the gems ranged all the way down to a small chipped stone. These were worth a hefy sum, but were even more valuable to mages.

A skilled mage could draw out the inborn mystical force within any of the rare stones; Rubies were imbued with fire. Saphires were imbued with ice and Topaz were imbued witih thunder.

Sure, there were other stones. But these three were the most important to the sorceress'. They defined the three schools of magic, passed down by the Goddesses. Hyathir, the Hawk had gifted them with the knowledge to weild fire. Fire is the element of the soul, it is passionate and single minded, stemming from the user's desires and needs.

Leth, the Dove had imparted her knowledge of ice. Ice is the element of the body. It stands firm, reacting to the weilder's internal strength, the power of their determination.

Zo, the Raven. Zo had given thunder. Thunder is the element of the mind, it reacts to those with a creative thought, giving the power to move quickly so long as the user stays focused.

And the legends say that the rare stones were scattered in the wake of the Goddesses, small fragments of their power. Finding a single gem was difficult enough...so to find this many...and this big too! Akara had no idea what this could mean, only that it was important. Very important.

"So, you don't-"

"AKARA!" it was a young guard; Paige. A gentle girl, she often came to Akara for advice on matters of the heart. More specifically, courting the young guardswoman, Flavie. But now...tears of pain flowed freely, and hate was alive in her eyes.

"Paige? What is it? What's wrong child?" Akara stood, concerned.

"It's...They killed Flavie!" she howled and collapsed in the tent.

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"BISHIBOSH! BISHIBOSH! BISHIBOSH! BISHIBOSH!" the creatures chanted. Hundreds of them. Red and blue skinned menaces, gathered outside the walls. The walls that were britstling with arrows and javelins.

The rogue's kept their faces neutral, or tried to. Out in the ranks of demons though, they could see the naked body of one of their own. Flavie...her nude corpse was crucified on a crude cross that was planted on the ground at the head of the army. They could see a deep red stream flowing down between her breasts.

The monsters danced around the corpse, chanting that infernal word over, and over, while waiving crude weapons high. Broken spears, bent swords, and rusty axes.

"Hold!" Kashya cried as she walked back and forth, her heart barely containing her grief for the fate of poor Flavie, "Wait...Wait!" she reminded firmly. Many of the archers were trembling, wanting to loose their arrows. Kashya understood herself.

"Don't fire...not yet. Wait for the..." whatever she was going to say died as the chanting stopped. The creatures formed into two ranks, cackling wickedly. It was raining again. It always rained here, ever since the gates to Hell were opened, a clear day became a thing of the past. It wasn't enough to flood the plains, but it was enough to permanently swell the banks of the rivers.

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Down through the central path, formed by the Carvers and the Fallen's, a golden...thing hobbled. It resembled it's kin, except for the fact that it stood a little taller, was of course, golden, and bore crude armor made of bones, and clutched in it's left hand was an ornate staff. It was made of gnarled wood, and topped with a piece of amber, while the length of the staff was decorated with shiny bits of metal and pieces of gold hammered into place.

For a lesser daemon, it was very impressive.

it grinned, showing rows of uneven teeth, as it ambled down towards the cross. A gentle "Bishibosh, Bishibosh, Bishibosh." rumbling around him.

It stood next to the crucified Flavie, and yelled something in daemonic tongue. The creatures hooted and hollered a few times. It then turned to face the humans, grinned wider and pointed one clawed finger at the cruciformed Flavie.

Her feet started on fire.

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"DAMN THEM!" Kashya shrieked, "TO HELL WITH IT! KILL ALL OF THEM!" she raised her own crossbow, and fired. Her attack was followed by the scream of bows, and the howls of javelins.

Battle was joined.

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The demons at first stared as a crossbow bolt struck their golden-skinned leader in the stomach. he wailed and fell to one knee, groaning. Then as one, they all surged forward, absorbing the hail of arrrows, and the crashing wave of javelins. The creatures fell in scores, yet more surged from the ranks, charging forward, two replacing every one that fell.

"MELEE! DRAW YOUR SWORDS!" Kashya roared over the screams of the demons. The creatures fell on the weapons of the rogues. Clambering over the wooden walls like ants. Kashya stood firm, a bastard sword gripped tightly in her hands, hacking off limbs of any of the monsters that came within range. But her others weren't fairing quite as well. Every few minutes, she saw one of her rogue's go down under a swarm of red and blue, their shrieks of pain becoming garbled as the monsters tore their throats open.

"DIE ALL OF YOU!" Akara screamed, and grabbed a dagger. She slashed one's face open with the dagger, and then kicked the sqealing demon into a group of onrushing monsters. She then hurled the dagger into the crowd, and charged in, her sword held above her head .

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Arcanna was in her element. Battle. The flames around her body twisting hungrily, trying to reach for the monsters. Unlike most mage's, she preffered to stay in close, hurling her fireballs and spraying flames from her staff. Bathing in the smoke, and stench of boiling flesh. The creatures seemed to surge towards her, and she welcomed them with a wave of fire, burning the flesh from their bones before they even knew they had died. Bright explosions rained down around her, signaling that Akara had joined the fray. Standing calm, a large wooden staff, decorated with feathers and a large Saphire stood behind her. Steadfast, firm, and shot chilling blasts of ice into stragglers. Keeping them contained near the fire-sorceress.

They outnumbered the deamons two to many.

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"Pretty humans." Axebreak, the carver muttered insanely to itself, "Pretty girlies. Need bleeding, need dying!" even amongst the daemons, Axebreak was considered stupid. It was a small mystery how he managed to come back from every mission, virtually unscathed. "Pretty pretty. Pretty blood on sword, yummie!" he licked his axe, not noticing the cut he put on his tongue, nor caring.

He wandered away from the melee, lookin at the tents. Maybe little girlies in their. Make good pets. Leaders enjoy making little girlies cry. Maybe give one to Axebreak to eat! He opened one tent at random and found a little girlie.

Well not exactly little in the chest though. BIG lumps on little girlie. Pretty red hair. All wrapped up in white things. Pure white skin, pretty pretty. Need more red. Lots more red.

Axebreak raised his crude, stone axe and giggled.

**End of Chapter 3**

**Author's Rant:** Umm...I REALLY need feedback on my fighting scenes, and any POSITIVE criticism is welcomed. I've never been particularly good at illustrating the lopping of heads and disembowling of foes. So if anyone has a few tips, or a full blown lesson, please let me know!


	4. Author update

Okay, this is just a place-holder for now

Okay, this is just a place-holder for now. I AM still writing! I just have had a lot happening in my life as of late .From having to find a new place to live, losing internet, therapy, everything in between. I have been swamped and unable to do much writing. But, I promise! There will be more on 'The weapon' and 'The Sound of Thunder' coming.

Just…please, be patient. I'm very overwhelmed right now.


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